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Forum:Plot Speculation and Dream Analysis
The Assassination of Xiram From high in the sky you look down. Around you the air is crisp, clean, and thin. The stars shine steadily around you. Below, far below, you see patterns of light grey and sparkling dark emptiness. You dive down, silently. As you get nearer to the light grey you start to hear the wind whistling past your ears. You come closer still and realize that the light grey are night-time clouds; as you dive through them you realize too that the sparkling dark was a hole in the cloud-scape, below which was a small city on a bay, at the mouth of a river. You're flying now, soaring over the bay to the torch and lantern-lit city. Now you're soaring over, among, and around the rooftops and chimneys of the city. You briefly rise over a hill-ridge thrusting into the city from the north, passing by a solitary watchtower and lighthouse. On the other side, you fly along dark alleyways, passing over a brightly light and raucous tavern, eventually lighting upon a rooftop. Below you, three men are talking. One man is holding a younger, smaller man in a secure lock. You recognize the captive as Xiram, the Chieftain's son from the Vanishing Isle. Xiram looks confused and frightened, which is understandable as the remaining man is holding a sharp sword. The captor grunts. Here now, stop struggling. It'll just make what we've been paid for, harder. Xiram's confusion gives way to a panic. Paid for? Look, here! If you want money, there's some in my purse! Take it! Let me go! If that's not enough, I can get more! Just let me go.! Nah, nah. says the other one. We've been paid all proper-like. Got to do what we've been paid for, else what kind of men would we be? 'Twouldn't be professional at all, at all. Proper pay for proper work, and proper work for proper pay. Now hold still. And with that, the swordsman stabs Xiram with an upthrust through the belly into the heart. As Xiram's eyes bug out, the swordsman twists the blade then pulls it out. Bubbling blood gushes forth once, twice, and then settles to a smooth flow. That was a right strange man, what paid for his death. mutters the once-captor. Swordsman wipes his blade on Xiram's body, sheathes it, and begins walking away. The other follows him. Eh. All nobs is strange. I'm thinking New Paril. Nah. Too close. How about Xhama City? Are you serious? Those amazons will sooner cut off his balls than look at a real man. I'd like someplace a little more welcoming. How about Heget? What is it with you a brainy women? You know you'll never get any.... As the two men wander away, Xiram's body lies cooling in the alleyway. You wake up. GuardianLurker 03:09, 6 October 2008 (UTC) The Appointment of the New Ambassador Sitting on a veranda, sipping cocktails, with handsome men holding trays containing hors d'oevures, glasses, and bottles, two noble women of Illigyr engage in the oldest profession - politics. One of the women is in her late 50's, with her hair cut in a warrior's style. She has a severe, hawk-like face, which only rarely carries a smile. She wears a half-sari and loose pantaloons. A brooch bearing the sigil of House Xetiral clasps the half-sari, while a dress epaulet bears the rank symbol of a general. The other woman is much younger, in her mid-to-late twenties. Her face carries a politician's smile, and she is dressed in an informal, but expensive sari. Birthalis is an interesting problem, is it not, General? The older woman sips her drink. Yes. Control it and you control the Blood River. Control it and Birthamlin, and the Bay of Dead Kings would be ours again. You must admit that Ambassador jin Mirkali has served us well there. She has brought peace and prosperity; the trade flows easily along the Forest Road. I admit no such thing. The bitch Retheka enriches the Xalar. She brings prosperity to Birthalis, home of our enemy, and sacrifices our nation's needs to the altar of peace. She is a coward and a conciliator, like many of the wimpering Ambassadorial corps. Our nation would be better served by someone more aggressive, who advances our nation's interests. So you would suggest someone of a more military mindset, then. Yes, I would. But the bitch Retheka has firmly entrenched herself there; she feeds off the trade, growing rich and powerful. Her money speaks well for her even as she betrays us in Xalar's bed. True. She won't leave the city. Xalar's bed is so comfortable for her I expect she'll die in it. Heh. That'd be fitting. Then everyone would know her for the traitor she is. Would that it was soon, but her kind live long lives. Eventually, she'll have to retire though. That'll be a good day. Maybe we'll be lucky and get a loyal soldier instead of a sniveller as her replacement. A loyal and grateful soldier would be an improvement, wouldn't it? Yes. Oh, look, isn't that a glorious hawk? Yes, yes it is. GuardianLurker 03:11, 6 October 2008 (UTC) The Gathering It is a garden in the early evening, a waxing moon hanging in the clear sky. Where you are standing is dark and shadowed, but in the near distance, you can see a brightly lit pavilion surrounded by fancy garden lanterns and party torches. The music, laughter and gaiety of a party in full swing emerges from the pavilion. Between you and the pavilion, you see two silhouettes walking together. One appears to be that of a woman, the other a man. Suddenly, flares of light burst in the sky, illuminating the couple. The woman is the same young woman who was talking to the new ambassador. The man is cloaked, his identity concealed, but even more troubling, almost appears transparent. The woman is nodding to the man. Finally the two part. The woman heads back to the party, but when you search for the man, he's gone. You are wandering through dimly lit shelves of books. You emerge from them into a small and dusty study area. Huddled over a stack of tomes, a dim green lantern providing his only light, the wizard Thryrean Whiteoak scribbles notes onto paper, muttering to himself. With a start, he looks up from his books, and turns around. From the shelves behind him, you see a shadowy figure of a man, the same man as from the garden party, appear. He approaches the wizard, gesturing at the notes. You can't hear the wizard's reply, but he appears agitated. The cloaked man make some reply, and the discussion continues on. Eventually, you notice that the discussions appear to be more like negotiations. Finally, the wizard nods, and shakes the cloaked man's hand to close the deal. The cloaked man nods, and strides back into the shelving, disappearing from sight. The wizard, in turn, pores over his notes, then curses, and begins scraping ink off of parchement. You wake up. GuardianLurker 03:33, 6 October 2008 (UTC) Passing of a Torch You are skimming over the waves into a port. On the pier next to you, a slender man in hunter's leathers, and carrying no weapons but a shield, disembarks off a sloop. He scans the area, and his eyes stop and focus on a nearby inn. Propped against the inn, and rising taller than its roof, is something that, if it were smaller, would be called a sword. The slender man strides to the inn without pause. Inside the inn, slouched on a bench lying along a wall, stretches the largest goliath you've seen; the bench is barely long enough. Seated across the table from this goliath, dwarfed by his size, are 5 xeph scouts. The scouts are tense, and you can see them visibly flinch as the man with the shield strides up to the table. He briefly greets them, and asks a single question. He seems a little surprised to actually receive an answer. But after no more than a heartbeat, he pulls a chair over, motions for a bar maid, and begins listening to what are apparently going to be extended tales. GuardianLurker 04:28, 2 December 2008 (UTC) Secrets in the Garden Two mounds of dark cloth, that are apparently persons buried under many layers of robes are talking to one another. The robes are all-concealing, completely covering both their faces and their bodies. One has a strip of white cloth sewn across the top of her robe's helmet, going from front-to-rear. Embroidered on the robe is a stylized hallowflower. The other wears robes embroidered with three large blooming hallow flowers, behind which is a crossed hoe and pruning hook, and a brooch with a bulbous-based arrow shooting between two black teardrops pinning the cowl to the robe at the throat. This person's cowl has a large white crest extending across the back of the cowl from side-to-side. Gardener, says the plainer one, which you now know to be female, We have found the Bright One whom the seers have said was born. He is Giovanne Aribatto, and has surfaced in an obscure city in the Xalar Empire, Birthalis. Aribatto. That name seems familiar. Yes, Gardener. He was the human Tainted Orphan we rescued from Markand. We sent him travelling, when there didn't appear to be a way to control or eliminate either his Taint or his anger. He has apparently discovered a way to do both. You will send Tender Hurkarth with as many assistants and suitable escort to Steward Aribatto in Birthalis. Ensure that Tender Hurkarth has ready communications with the Garden. Spare no expense in Tender Hurkarth's rapid travel to Birthalis. We must discover how Aribatto has managed this. Yes, Gardener. With that, the subordinate priestess bows and leaves the room. The Gardener stares out the window over the cloister's garden, and absently starts fiddling with the brooch at his throat. GuardianLurker 04:28, 2 December 2008 (UTC)